


What's done with love is done well

by essilt



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drama, F/M, Gen, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-14
Updated: 2017-07-27
Packaged: 2018-11-14 01:43:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11197833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/essilt/pseuds/essilt
Summary: She is irresponsible enough to let Will know he has a son. She understands this too late.





	1. First appearance

**Author's Note:**

> Deepest gratitude to my dear “bro” kxena, who inspired me and made this text alive :)
> 
> (I'm very sorry for my english, it's not my native.)

"You're father now, you have a son. I named him Henry. A strong name for a strong son of a strong father. He'll wait you as I do."

She is fearless enough to touch the drowned man's hand. She is brave enough to send the dead body away from her shore in a frail boat. She left a letter for her husband, The Sea Devil. She thinks this precious new life they started together will give him strength and hope for reunion, even if they have to wait for ten years. She's going to do everything for the strongest bonds between father and son.

She is irresponsible enough to let Will know he has a son. She understands this too late.

She wakes up at night because of a ship bell's ringing. The sound is echoing, and deep, and fearsome, and it's everywhere. She feels the air is trembling with every bang, she sees the beacon is shivering.

Henry is crying.  
She is frightening.

What if she is found now. What if king's justice would take Henry away from her. What if pirates would take Henry away from her. Her heart beats so fast she nearly can't breathe.

Her home isn't very far from the shore. Noone would help them. Grace, Henry's nurse, is just an old woman. This ship bell would toll for them and when Will returns ten years later – eight years and ten months, actually, - he'd find nothing...

She puts off the candles and looks through the window to the shore. The ship is giant, it seems so familiar - and before she sees the crew on the beach, she recognizes it.

It's the Dutchman.

Dear merciful God, it's the Dutchman.

Something's wrong, she panics, something's happened to Will.

She runs to the beach like a mad bird. She feels no cold, no wind; she remembers she is barefoot only when the waves and the wet sand hold her feet. The lamp in her hand trembles anxiously.

"Will," she whispers, can't believe in what she sees: her husband himself staying at the edge of a sea in a raging waves. "Will!"  
He looks at her, his eyes are wild and full of sullen fire.

The Sea Devil himself. The new Davy Jones.

"It can't be," she drops the lamp. The flame hisses and goes out, and she smells the smoke. She can't understand what she feels right now seeing him so close. She doesn't even see his face, she just feels him right there. With whole her heart, body, and mind she feels just one thing: he IS here. Her Will.  
"You can't be here."  
Saying this, she opens an embrace. It’s nothing in common with what she says and what she does. She needs to be hold, she needs to hold him.

He makes a step and then freezes.  
He can't tread on the ground, she remembers painfully.

The ship bell stops at last, and then she hears Will's voice - as if it comes deeply from under the water.  
"I have to see him, Elizabeth. Our son. My son. Please. Let me see, show me."

He breaks the rules, she finds out slowly and feels a horror. Just once a ten years. Just one day at shore.  
But he came now.  
Because of her doings.  
Because of her.  
As was his way.  
It's she what's wrong with Will.

She feels she's turning pale. It's too dark for Will sees either.

"What have you done?!" She screams in despair. "What have I done?!"  
"Let me see him," he repeats. "Henry. I beg you, I won't hurt him."

He doesn't even try to hold her. He said no single word about love.  
Everything turns upside down. Nothing’s about joy, or love, or hope, or anything they shared before.  
It's doom.

And she is the reason he goes against the doom. She called him, and he is here, and she dares to think about embrace, about words.

"Of course you won't," she says gently. "I'd never thought anything like this. And how could you say a thing like this, Will. Wait."

She returns with Henry in her arms. He is heavy and warm and smells with milk as every baby has to.  
Will looks helpless.  
He says "Oh" and watch the baby insatiably.

It’s heartbreaking.

"Look who is here, Henry,” she says to their son. “It's daddy."  
Henry giggles, hearing her voice, and then turns his head and looks right at Will.

He tries to breathe, but the air is not enough. She sees Will copes with tears.  
"My son," he smiles at last. His eyes are wet and full of admiration. There is nothing of the Sea Devil, it's just a father looking at his son the very first time. He stretches out his hands and freezes again.  
“I-I don’t even know how to hold him.”  
“It’s easy.”

His arms are wet and warm; she feels a short caressing of his fingers on her skin – it’s not Henry’s, it’s HERS. Then she gives him Henry, and their son is so serious and quiet, as if he understands what's happening. He has her hair and his eyes. She is absolutely sure he has Will’s character too.

He chuckles when Will kisses his forehead and then tries to catch his father’s nose. So small, so strong and so fearless, he feels this man, holding him and smelling of the salt and seaweed, is dear.  
"Elizabeth, he is perfect."  
Will’s voice trembles.  
"He is," she smiles. "So much like you. That makes him perfect."  
Henry chuckles again. Will keeps him as if he was crystal.  
"He likes you."  
"How do you know?"  
"I know everything about him."

He looks hurt, but just for awhile. He knows nothing about his son but the name.

She feels hurt all the time. She knows nothing about her husband but the sound of his heartbeating.

He returns Henry, and their son whines. He’s already loved the stranger’s hands. He’ll miss it as his mother does.  
Will locks her in an embrace for a moment. For a lifetime.

“I have to go, Elizabeth.”  
She feels happy, she feels sorrow, she feels guilty.  
"I'm so sorry, Will. I failed you."  
He looks at baby. It’s worth it all, but it costs too much.  
He looks at her, and she sees the only thing: love.  
"This was my doing and mine only. I'd answer for this. Everything you've done, you've done well, my dearest one."

She watches the Dutchman disappears.

She does not cry.


	2. Last Appearance

He comes again and again, usually at darkness. Maybe he remembers what she told him once: gods are blind at night.

Henry grows up. He learns to walk, to talk, to count, to draw cards. He counts months between the Dutchman’s appearances. Then days. Then hours. The more numbers he knows, the more time is between him and Will. He indicates the coordinates of the place where the Dutchman appears, on his cards. He learns everything about the sea beasts, the sea curses and how to break them.

To be correct, they learn it together: a son missing his father and a wife missing her husband.

He loves his father too much. She made a mistake creating Will as a great hero in their son’s mind. She understands it too late. Everything is too late for her.

She’d have done it again if she’d had a choice. She did this – and still doing this – with whole her love.

Because Will IS a hero. And a dreamer. And a man who tried to make the world better.  
He still tries, staying on the Dutchman and doing its duty. He almost succeeded. He failed. And yet he is the best man, and she has no other thought then to say this to Henry.  
A vicious circle.

Time flies.

Year by year she sees Will changes. Feels his hands getting cold and then warms when he holds Henry. Hears his voice sounds more swollen and heavy. Sees his glance becomes darker and deeper, as if the seabed reflects in it. As if Will himself is locked up in Davy Jones's locker.

Maybe the Dutchman is Davy Jones's locker itself, and now they have no key.

"Why are you keeping do this?" She asks once.  
He gives no answer.  
She knows perfectly well, why.

Henry is eight, and this time they've been waiting too long for the Dutchman's appearance. He comes at night with no fires, no signs, even the sea is calm, as if the ship comes above the waves and not under.

"Remove the lamp, Elizabeth," Will asks, and comes closer only when she does.

She doesn't see his face, only a silhouette, a dark shadow on the sand.

She touches him for a moment. Will's hands are cold, even when he hugs Henry shortly, and she feels fear, an ancient, and dense, and abysmal.

“I must go.”  
“You’ve just came, father!”  
“And yet it’s time.”  
“No, it’s not!”  
She hears the tears in Henry’s voice. He looks pained and injured.  
"You've changed, father."  
"I did. It's the curse, Henry. You know. This is our last met, I won't come again."  
"What?"  
"What?!" Elizabeth repeats shockingly.  
“You can’t just go away!” Henry cries.   
“It’s my time, Henry.”  
"Then I’ll find you. And the way to break this damned curse!"  
Will looks straight at him, and this glance isn’t a glance of alive.  
"Do you fear death, Henry Turner?"  
Elizabeth freezes. No, no, not this, anything, but this.  
“I-I don’t know…”  
“You have to. It’s easy to die trying find a way to break the curses.”  
A voice returns to her.  
“Henry William, go home, now!”

He obeys. How much longer will he obey? His father was ten when he went in search of his father: a lonely child on a ship where no one cares for him, in the unknown seas, in a foreign country…  
Will watches him go.  
"He is too young. Explain him. I'm a part of a ship, part of a crew."

Bootstrap, she remembers immediately. Bootstrap, nearly ingrown to the Dutchman's board. Almost a rotten wood himself, repeating these words like a spell, losing his mind with every time.  
That is what the Dutchman makes with those who breaking the rules of Calypso the Goddess: deprives them with human image, then will, then mind.

"Don't talk like this!"  
He doesn’t listen.  
“You’re free,” he says.  
“Of what?”  
“Of me. If you wish. You can’t live like a widow forever. And you can’t live forever.”  
“But I love you.”  
“Look at me, Elizabeth.”

The moonlight cuts through the clouds and plays upon his skin. Upon what's left of his skin. Upon the barnacles covers a half of his face and neck. Upon the seaweed entwines his cloths. Upon the salt scurfs on the scabbard of his sword.  
And the handle shines like new.

She remembers this sword in his chest.

“Nothing’s left to love," as if his voice sounds from the ground. "I’m not a man anymore.”  
“I don’t care," she grabs his hand.  
It’s covered in barnacles too and cold, this time is too cold.  
"I do.”

She steps toward. She holds him, their lips meet. Semblance of life is in his breath. In the kiss he gives her: maybe it's the last living doing of him.

“The Dutchman refuses me as a captain, because I’m… too much at shore. God knows, what this ship would done, if it had no captain.”

She nods. She hears her own scream under the sea’s arrogance: “Look at me, stay with me!”  
She is sure, Will hears the same.

"I love you," she breathes.  
"I love you," he echoes, and then he is gone.

"DOWN," he commands to the Dutchman – she hears it, or just think she hears.

It’s nearly sunrise. The horizon is clear. The sea is calm. The gulls cries at the sky.  
And the water is cold as Will's hand she touched last time.


	3. A fly in amber

_…The Dutchman drowns in the furious sea, the ebony goddess takes him in a thirsty embrace. The goddess waited too long. The goddess is too impatience for prolong the moment of possession: she takes her captain with his ship with one wave’s strike._  
_She looks down and sees nothing through the tears. She hasn’t yet become a wife, but already a widow. She thought they have all the life ahead, while their hours were numbered. If she only knew, but this means nothing now._  
_It's an accidental victim for the goddess: a new life of a man with a strongly loving heart. The goddess doesn’t interested in this man – or, maybe, she does, who knows. Maybe she’s planned this from the very beginning._  
_The tears are stinging. Calypso laughs beneath the sea, and the seafoam splashes as a fireworks._  
_The world really ends._

Noone laughs this time, but the destiny and it’s much louder. Nothing’s the same and everything’s the same.

When she returns home at last – powerless, tearless, heartless, lifeless, fearless – Henry sits on a windowsill and listens to the sea. It moans long and deeply as if it mourns the farewell it’s been witnesses to.

It’s early dawn, but the sun is still sleeping under the blanket of the waves. The horizon gets pale-gold, the shore is still dark, and noone will come to the beacon from this day.

“He abandoned us.”  
“What?”  
“I said he abandoned us!”

He is crying, their son. A lonely boy with no friends, a child who grew up on legends and tales, listening a heart in a chest, a child living his mother’s dreams about a father who’d never come back.

What has she done to everything she touched in her life?

She feels so tired, so exhausted, and yet she has to comfort him, while she’s being despair.  
And she has to protect her husband from their son’s disappointing.

She has no strength to comfort anyone, but nobody cares.

Even Will, her beloved husband, whom she waited so long and vainly. She didn’t have time to talk about the trident, and now she feels the trident won’t help. Anything won’t help. The trident is just an artifact on the seabed; she’s seen a lot of them.

Love isn’t omnipotent, the curse is unbroken, they’re done, but nobody cares.  
It’s she who has to care.

She sits next to Henry.  
“Henry…”  
She tries to hug him, but Henry pushes her away.  
“You lied to me! You always said he is the best man, but he is just... just...”  
Just a man, she finishes mentally. Who is still the best one.  
“Henry.”

The words are heavy. The thoughts are heavier. The life is the heaviest thing, but nobody cares.

“I've never lied to you and I never will, especially about your father. You've seen what he became, Henry. I've seen what'd happen after. He doesn't want to share this with us. He thinks this matters. I don't agree with him, but I understand. Besides, the Dutchman is the ship of duty. I've seen what it becomes if the duty is abandoned.”

Henry is silent for a moment. Her hair and Will’s eyes, Will’s glance, Will’s stubbornness. How can he be so much like father whom he hardly knows?  
She strokes his cheek, and Henry hugs her. She feels his tears – evil, bitter and useless.  
"I just want him with us," he sobs.  
"So do I."  
"I'll find a way for him, mom, I promise."

***

Next few days his clothes are wet at the morning, but he says nothing about what happened. He always in bed in time.

Once she wakes up at night and sees the Dutchman’s shadow on the horizon: the ugly bifid nasal mast and the scraps of sails waving on the wind that isn’t exist in the world of alive.  
She blinks, and the wraith is gone.

Was it true?

“Did father say a word about me?” she asks at breakfast.  
He stops eating and bites his lips.  
“A word,” he says at last. “He told me to return to you.”

An abyss. An endless abyss, dark and cold. She falls into; is it true, it’s nothing’s left of a man she loved, she loves?

“Drink your milk, Henry.”

***

Henry is ten when he escapes home.

He didn’t say goodbye, he just left a note: "I'll save my father, it's decided."

She almost goes mad a few next months. She doesn't know what to think, what to do, where to find him. She turns grey, thinking unstoppable about she's already lost her father, her friend, her husband, every man that matters in her life, does it mean she must lose her son anyway? A son trying to do quite the same thing his father tried to do and failed.  
This kind of irony she won't survive.

When Henry returns, he smells the resin, the salt, the wind, the wood; the freedom. He watches squinting slightly. А man of sea, a very, very young, but already a man of sea.

That moment she feels relieved and a bittersweet sorrow.

This is how to have a son. He became a man and needs no mother anymore. Even if his mother was The Pirate's King once and understands the world of men much better than any woman. They wouldn't alive if she didn't. Behind the dream of reunion with Will she never stops to hide from the law and to protect Henry.

Elizabeth feels lonely.

His father was at the same age when he became a man. She remembers. She took care of a boy who was saved from a drowning ship, and this is where they came.

Henry was just a cabin boy on a small Dutch merchant ship, whose owner trades in the Caribbean islands, but he is impressed with his little adventure. He talks a lot about what he's seen and what he's done.

"I didn't find the trident, mom, but I won't stop."  
Of course he won't. He has her courage and Will's insistence. It's enough to go as far as it can only be imagined and much farther.

He is surprised, she finds out, with her calmness. He eats a pudding and waits for an earful, but Elizabeth just smiles at him.  


“Father told me to stay away from sea.”  
He is so young, Elizabeth thinks, and she is so old. She’s seen too much while he is just opens a world.  
“Aye, he did.”  
“But you won’t say the same,” he concludes and looking at her inquiringly.  
“Aye, I won’t. Truly, I’m glad you choose the sea, Henry.”  
He looks confused.  
“Why?”  
She sits next to him and kisses his forehead as Will did many years ago.  
“Because it’s the safest place for you. The sea won’t ever hurt you, because your father is the sea.”


	4. Awakening

She hopes a way of desperate souls.

A bleak, an evil way.

Her hope is dark and heavy and, to be honest, it has nothing in common with a true hope, which is sweet, and light, and immortal.

She remembers this kind of hope. She felt it commanding the pirate's fleet against Beckett's. Oh, how hopeful was that battle in the heart of the sea till the moment Will died in the eye of the storm.

She's lost her hope the first time that moment.

Then Will took her hope to seabed forever.

Will, whom she returned to a world of alive and made to betray The Dutchman's duty.  
With all her love.  
Will, too, she thinks, took her hope away with all his love.

She knows she'll never see him again.  
She refuses the thought she'll never see him again.

That is her hope now: a refusing.

She asks God: was it the only thing they deserved? Was it such an unforgivable sin, to fight against Beckett? To seek the revenge for father's death? If this seeking was her sin, then what was Will's, who searched a justice and salvation for his father?

She has to live with no answer.

Hope was once a bird; a fearless one, flying right near the sun, above the clouds.  
Now it's a snake. It stings in a moment, being never awaited, and the bite is never mortal.

The bacon is useless, but she can't leave this place.

The place Will knows where to find her.

***  
Henry is seventeen.

He still tries to find the trident: every his doing is subdued to his dream. He doesn't stop and, Elizabeth knows this perfectly, he won't ever. She is proud; and yet she feels sorrow. Time flies, her life flows through her fingers as water, the best years have passed. She is just a women with a gorgeous past who is getting old now, while Henry goes right his course.

An honorable, a high one.

This time he returns home with a girl. 

A girl.

A very young, slim and graceful one, but also a very stable and steel. It's absolutely clear she knows what she wants and it's a bit strange she wants Henry, but... a governor's daughter chose a poor blacksmith over a shining Commodore.

The history repeats itself anyway.

She is dark-haired and with a deep blue eyes. Elizabeth feels something familiar in her, an almost imperceptible, a lightly similarity to someone.

Maybe it's just a similarity she feels between a girl and herself. Henry is so much like his father, so he must be looking for quite the same girl as his father did.

"Mom, this is Carina."

She smiles. Let it be Carina though, why not? His granddad abandoned a wife and was cursed. His father went to the sea to break this curse and found the girl, and lost the girl, and was cursed. He went to the sea to break that curse and found a girl and returned home.

Children have to succeed over their parents.

Life is life.

Carina makes a lovely curtsey (of course, Henry has already told her about his mom's noble ancestry), but doesn't look confused.

"Carina is scientist."  
"An astronomer," the girl clarifies. "I'm so happy to meet you, Mrs. Turner."

She holds back the tears.

"Welcome home, dears."

She addresses this to them both. If these two chose each other, then it's Carina's home also. Besides, she'd probably has the best place for her astronomical observations.

Henry looks impatient, while she thinks about all this.

"Why look at me such a way, Henry?"  
"Mom," he says, and his eyes are bright, "can you dress your best dress?"  
"What? Why?"  
"Cause you heard Carina is an astromoner, and she's read the card, mom, the card a man can't read, and we found the trident, mom. And we crushed it. So this means..."  
"Will."

Holy Mary, Mother of God.

Will.

The hope beats in her chest as a bird. As a phoenix, being rise again from ash.

Will.

The most stupid thing ever she can do is to die of joy, right now, right here.

Will.

She looks at Henry for a moment, then she runs to her room. 

Her heart beats with Will, and Will, and Will.

The best dress, she repeats, and laughs, and cries, and forgets herself, and nearly loses her mind; the best dress.

She stops and watches herself in the mirror.

The wrinkles. The dark circles under her eyes. She's started to dye hair to hide from the king's soldiers, pirates, who'd be searching a blonde, so he won't see her grizzle.

She is almost thirty eight, anyway.

Is she the one who sees it?  
Is she still beautiful?   
Was she ever beautiful?   
She knows she was to him once, but now? After everything what they've come through, will he still finds her beautiful?

She isn't ready after all these years of endless waiting.  
She never thought this would've happen.  
She buried him in the seabed; at least not in her heart.

She still pretends to be called a loving wife.

Will. Will. Will.

She tries to calm her breath.

The best dress. The best, while she has just one!  
Henry, oh, Henry.

It takes a few minutes to dress up. No corset this time, for a very long time, to be honest.

It takes an eternity.

Will.

A blush. A lipstick. All the things she's already forgot. A things for an allurement.

The silk stockings. The shoes with the heels. The damned heels.

Twice damned, when she falls, trying to run.

"Mom!"

The allurement, she thinks, yes, and starts both crying and laughing again.

"Mrs. Turner?"  
Live as many years as I did, dear, wait as many years as I did, you'll understand then, she thinks.  
"It's alright, go, you two," she says to Henry and Carina, "go and meet him, don't wait for me, go!"

Farewell, the shoes, she thinks, taking them off.  
Farewell, silk stockings also.  
Farewell, the allurement.

She runs barefoot, it's much faster.

Up and up the hill.

Will.


	5. Home

It’s been… it’s been time — a long, long time — when he felt himself a man last time. He doesn’t truly remember how it was, being human. It wasn’t about an eyesight, and a hearing, and a smelling only. He had desires, and needs, and emotions; he remembers vaguely which ones exactly, but it doesn’t bring about a full sense.

For a long time there was nothing but the sea. The salt. The fishes. Their slippery fins were touching the bulkheads, the masts, the keel, and stroking the ridge and stern.

For a long time he felt only the ship. The waves were swaying along the sides. The salt was making its way through the wood. Through his bones. He had no bones, just the bulkheads, the rigging, the anchor, the canvas. The rigging had no feelings. No thoughts. No breathe. It needed no breathe, and the ooze was covering inch by inch everything once was Will Turner, a pirate, a son, a husband, a father.

He was a part of the ship, a part of the crew.

It’s all gone in a moment; he has his mind now, and flesh, and he feels how blood flows through his veins.  
And a heart beats in his chest.

He feels the warmth of the sun, the wind sliding over his skin, and how it brings a salt in the air, smelling so dense. He hears the sailing, and how the sailors shout.  
The curse is broken, he understands.

But how? By whom?

He doesn't even know how many years had passed.

The shore is quite the same he remembers: the stones are not hewn, the grass is not decayed, the sealine ends quite the same place. But the shores are getting old much more slowly than people. Last time he saw this shore as a man, was at sunset, and the shore was quiet, and the woman he loved was firm. But the last time he saw this shore it was dark, and cold, and dumb, and he felt no difference between the sea and the ground, and the woman he loved was desperate.

Her name comes to life inside him.  
Elizabeth.

The Dutchman is moored, and Will descends to the ground and realizes that he forgot the sensation of the ground under his feet.

Up and up the hill, knowing nothing about what's waiting him. The golden grass trembles in the warm wind. The sky is also golden, and he feels like the world was never so rich, so perfect.

He doesn't even know how many years had passed.

Maybe hundreds.  
Maybe Elizabeth is already dead. Maybe Henry is already dead. Maybe that's why Calypso freed him from the Dutchman’s duty.  
It's so painful to have a heart, he founds, a heart and a mind to recognize the essence of things.

He sees a young man at the hilltop, a boy with a spyglass, looking out, waiting for someone. Step by step Will approaches to him.  
A very young one, and before he gives him the necklace in silence, Will’s already recognize him.

Henry. Henry, his son.

His heart stops for a moment, then it beats so fast he stops breathe for a moment.

So grown, dear Lord, so grown. Last time Will saw a stubborn boy, weeping because of an injustice, and now he is almost a man, and still stubborn, and full of succeed.  
Why, oh, why. Time is ruthless, he thinks, while the joy of seeing Henry as such an adult and the regret for everything that is irretrievably lost are mixed up in his soul.

They hug each other, and yes, Henry is taller, oh Lord, that’s both funny and deadly for him.

— Oh, look at you son…  
He is so much like his mother, absolutely her son. The same hair, the same eyes, the same refinement in his face.  
— How did you do it? How did you break the curse?  
His son smiles, and that’s Elizabeth’s smile, both gentle and sly, thanks God for that.  
— Let me tell you a tale, — he answers with an obvious superiority. Ah, yes, the youth, it’s always cocky as if it’s never-ending. Will once was the same. — The tale of the greatest treasure known to man…  
— That's the tale I wanna hear!

He is afraid to ask the main question.

He needs no just a moment later.

He sees a thin figure in a rose gown, looking golden in sunset’s light. The world is rich, it’s the richest today, it has no price.  
He just knows it's her. He believes not his eyes and he knows it with all his heart.  
He feels it, knows it, he doesn’t care of anything else.

He doesn't even see Elizabeth's face. He knows it’s beautiful, the eyes can deceive, but the mind can’t.

Perhaps they run to each other under the golden sky, over the golden grass. Or maybe they fly. The damned sword impedes, entangles in his legs, that's all he understands well enough.  
They stop against each other for a while; she looks at him — oh, how she does, as if he had risen from the dead.  
He had, obviously. 

He holds her strongly, hears her breath answering his, she must be smiling as he does. His heart beats right against hers, the same rhythm, the same sound.  
Feeling himself immortal, feeling she is immortal. As if time has flowed back and they returned to the beginning.

He looks at her lips, as was always his way, as is his way forever.  
She kisses him: greedily, lubberly, awkwardly.  
He forgot how to kiss.  
Looks like she forgot too.  
Looks like nobody cares.

He feels with all his heart how right everything was. How right is.

She smiles then, and her lips tremble.

"Bess," he whispers, caressing her checks, "Bess, my home."


End file.
